Give Me A Break
by zenz3n
Summary: Jinx has A Bad Day.
1. Chapter the First

I do not own the Teen Titans, nor any other DC Justice League characters.

I dedicate this one to Shmizzim. Without her silent shadow hovering over my shoulder, I would have never completed it. Thanks, Schmezzy!

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**Chapter 1**

**Chapter the First**

Come on, give me a break, that is _not_ the way it happened...

There I was, just minding my own business, sashaying down the sidewalk - not a care in the world. I'd picked up some very special things at the Vicky's Secret down the street, and by 'picked up' I mean 'not caught', so you can imagine my bright, positive disposition.

At that moment I was just wondering whether I should get 'the boys' all hot and bothered by waving the teensiest, teasingliest flash of my new girlie things at them before slamming the door in their lecherous, no-chance-in-heck-with-me faces, and then wondering more - and not the first time, I have to tell you - if I really wanted to let See-More have a peek, and just maybe not slam the door in his face. He is kinda sweet, at least when compared to the other troglodyte goons who are my teammates and roomies, but he isn't all_that _sweet, and he'd probably get the wrong idea if I did.

Sometimes you just need a boy to remind you that you're all girl, and I really was missing that. It had been a dog's age since that stinker Stone had led me astray, and See-More _is _the nicest boy in the Five, slim as those pickings are, but then you let even The Nicest Boy have a little kiss-but-don't-tell, and right afterwards that boy gets all crazy, and becomes down-right territorial about you, and it's no end to trouble. Now, if See-More got me all breathless and fluttery then I wouldn't really mind any of that Neanderthal '_Me Man, you mine' _attitude, but as it stands, well, he just doesn't, so I won't, and that's that.

Anyway, there I am, mulling over just how much I was going to taunt the easily-taunted, just law-abidingly minding my own beeswax on this public thoroughfare, when some guy in a top hat and a cape runs way too close by, sideswiping me and knocking me on my keester, maniacally cackling all the way. "Hey!" is the best I can do in complaint, but he just keeps on cackling while he tears down the street. A kind of 'old man' sort of cackling, I note while I get myself back up. I see that for once everyone's eyes aren't glued on me - and doesn't that get to be a drag after a while - but then I catch a sight of The Rude Knocker-Over Man looking back over his shoulder, and I see why. "Whoa," I perceptively remark, because the impolite old guy is that crazed 'magician', Mumbo Jumbo. And it occurs to me very soon afterward that if he's high-tailing it out of here, and looking over his shoulder, and cackling -he was cackling, did I mention that? - then...

"Shine-ola!" I scoot aside and dive right into the nearest store. And right on cue a flashing green comet of peppy goodiness streaks down from on high, throwing toxic-green star bolts all over the thoroughfare as she dives, and then she shows off by ending her power-dive with a gratuitous immelman and a barrel roll, and right over the spot where I had been, too.

Civilians are scattering in screaming waves, and cars are swerving and slamming and bashing each other, and it's gridlock and pandemonium in seconds. I peek my perfect hair and irresistible eyes around the corner of the entrance and give a long, low whistle of appreciation. I have to_work,_ and pretty hard, too, to futz-up a boulevard this quickly, and she does it as an absent-minded bonus. _Dang,_ I think, _the Titans have gotta have a hell of an insurance policy. The way they're breaking the city all the time is a crime. A Crime!_ I smile; I crack me up sometimes.

So, Starflyer is strafing Mumbo, and the old coot is dancing around her shots like a flea on a skillet. It's an entertaining show, but from a strictly professional perspective I'd have to say that the alien chick needs a bit more discipline. She depends on speed and power to carry her attacks through, but she lacks focus. Up against someone who is _thinking _their reactions to her, like me, not simply reacting by instinct or in panic, well, they'd play her like a deck of cards. I got my head inside her action cycle once, managed to never be where she needed me to be, and eff'ed her up pretty good. Looks like Mumbo has the trick down now, too. But, if another Titan shows up to split the effort, or to nail Mumbo's attention...

That unpleasant thought set me to scanning the skyscraper-hemmed skies again, because where there's Star, usually the Witchy-Bitch is close behind. And that was not what I wanted to see at all.

Just an F.Y.I. - I really can't stand that witch girl. It's more than just her being on The Other Side. It's a vibes thing - she's as cold and clammy as an aquarium full of dead guppies. I've heard she's half-demon, or something like that, and I don't believe it. It's just a story to keep us jumpy when she's around. I've read up on my demons, and everything I read about girl demons says they're sex fiends. And that sure as hell is about as different from Raven as you can get.

There's not a single picture on the internet of her smooching.

And you can't ask why I know that.

Anyway, I'm searching the heavens for any sign of Raven-bitch, when what do you know, a green, furry blurry comes barreling down the sidewalk, locked and loaded and heading straight for Mumbo. It's the Beastie Boy, of course, and I'm thinking that old and clever is no match for a jokes-fixated youth in a cheetah get-up, but I don't know everything, I guess, because Mumbo holds his hat out at the fur ball like a cannon, and said fur ball starts frantically backpedaling even as his momentum keeps sliding him forward. It's a hoot - just like one of those Jerry & Tom cartoons. But then, with a cheetah-like squeak he gets sucked up into a cyclone coming from out of that old top hat and disappears.

"Dammmn..." I am impressed.

But my reaction is mild compared to Starfire's. She drops like a rock to the pavement and stomps ominously toward Mumbo, energy crackling and hissing from her fists, and her eyes gleaming an especially sickly green. "You shall return my friend from this nefarious captivity, Mumbo Jumbo, or you shall be most seriously punished!" she says.

'"Star girl," he says, and his eyes narrow ominously, "time to put your money where your mouth is." He holds up that top hat again, and before you can stay 'cease and desist, you foul miscreant' Starfire finds herself flying with obvious strain against the force of the magic-hat-twister spinning out and about her. And just like the Beast, it's a losing proposition: she gets sucked in after just a couple of seconds.

Right afterwards, it's just too quiet. Mumbo smiles, all proud of himself, and looks down into his hat. "I mean, 'put your mouth where _my_money is'." Which is such an obvious groaner that I, well, groaned. Which was the wrong thing to do. Because he hears me. It being 'too quiet' and all.

He looks startled, and swings that hat right in my direction. I, being the soul of peace and discretion, and wanting no part of any upcoming donnybrook, hold my hands out away from my sides and walk into the street, very peaceable-like. "I was just passing through when I got caught in the crossfire, Mumbo. You can do whatever you want with those Titans. No skin off my nose."

He stares kind of intently at me, obviously ransacking his memory, then slowly mumbles back, "You're one of those Hive brats, aren't you."

"No need to get hostile," I reply. "I'm just passing through." After all, I don't need to be here, not with more Titans vectoring to this very spot. "Live and let live." I am a sweet, gentle, reasonable creature by nature, as you know. "The last thing I need is to be cheek-by-jowl with your friends in there."

Which was my second foot-in-mouth moment in as many minutes, because I practically see the light bulb pop on over his head. A half-smile creases his cheek and he asks me, "What's your name, kid?"

"Jinx," I reply.

"Jinx?"

"Yeah. Jinx." I thought I'd said it clear enough the first time.

"Well,_Jinx_," and I can see it coming, like a runaway semi careening at me down a one way street, "this is your _lucky _day." Then he fires-or-whatever-you-call-it his hat.

I was already halfway through a backwards hand stand on my way out of there when he takes that potshot at me, so score one for my prescient tactical eye and balletic grace, or so I think until I'm blind-sided by that top hat twister thing and find myself tumbling free in the air, and being sucked straight into his magic hat.

I know, for a super-villainess I'm looking alot like a pushover, but I was surprised, and really, who actually expects that old geezer to be so fast?

So, I get sucked down into 'the hat'. And to anticipate your curiosity, it isn't all that painful or anything. There's a moment where you feel just a little tight, I guess you'd say, then it's fine.

I'm in this pitch black somewhere, falling at terminal velocity, doomed to splat when I strike what floor there is in here, but I do have plenty of room to stretch and stuf--

_"OWWW!!"_

I land on my pert little butt, and boy, does that _smart!_

I am quite the cheezed-off girl, I can tell you. And after only a paragraph or two of very rude phrases, I am dramatically bathed in what seems like a giant spotlight. I squint up, and way up there, way way _way _up there, a giant Mumbo head is looking down at me through a bright hole in the darkness. If I didn't know better, and really, I do, I'd say it looks like he's looking down into a hat.

Which I'm in.

"Those are the wrong kind of 'magic words' to say to get you outta there, kid," the giant-Mumbo booms at me.

I stand up and plant my fists on my hips, and shove my chin up at him. And I squint a little, too - two mean eyes fed up with whatever games he's playing. "What is _this _all about?!" I yell it. I sound completely outraged. I practically exude 'unjust imprisonment'. Which I'm especially good at.

I have a lot of practice.

"Listen, kid," he answers, "I have my own problems up here, so I can't chat. You keep the Star girl and Beast Kid busy for me, and there'll be something in it for you."

Then the 'spotlight' goes out, and I'm alone in the dim. "_What_'something'?" And of course there's no answer. "Mumbo!?!" He does _not_ want me to get an attitude about this. _"Mumbo?!?"_

Nothin'.

"Oh, snap."

I cross my arms, and tap my foot, and bite my lip, and then I drop the f-bomb. Then I do it again, with sincerity and feeling, because it is definitely one of those moments.


	2. The Art Of The Fib

I do not own the Teen Titans

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**Chapter 2**

**The Art of the Fib**

"This sucks."

I don't exactly say it aloud, but it needs to be said. I've been wandering around in the deep blue shadows at the bottom of this frigging hat for... an hour? I don't know for sure, but it sure feels like that. "How the hell do I get out of here?" And yes, that's not the first time I asked that.

"Wander around here long enough and I'll go crazy." Absolutely true. "Completely bonkers." Testify, girlfriend. "Before I know it, I'll start talking to myself." Then I think I hear a sound behind me. I spin in place and crouch, ready for battle. "What was that," I whisper.

Out of the dim, and too damned close because of it, I sorta see a shape approach - a person-y shape, and it looks like it's not exactly sure about me, either, because I see it's silhouette getting ready for a fight, too. I size up it's size. Hmmm, not huge. It could probably throw a punch and I'd still be on my feet afterward to swing back. At least I have plenty of room to jump out of the way. It shuffles closer. I am ready. I am so ready. Bring it on, mystery shape.

It speaks. "Who's that?"

Hello, I know that voice! "Beast Boy?" Dumb question. Who else does it sound like?

"Star?"

What the hell, I go with that. "Oh, Beast Boy, I am most reassured that you are unharmed by the foul acts of the Mumbo Jumbo." Maybe I laid it on a bit thick there.

"Yeah, me too. Have you figured out a way to get out of here yet?" Well, maybe I laid it on just right.

"I am certainly, uh, nonplussed by our captivity, friend."

"Oh. Oh, yeah." There's a short pause, then he asks,"You okay, Star? Your voice sounds, umm, different?"

"Different?"

"Yeah. Lower, maybe?"

Lower, huh? He must mean 'sexier'. So I show just what a mischievous little imp I am and think up a lie, and think it up fast. "I struck a mysterious object against my neck when I was, uh, seized by that nefarious villain. Perhaps it, uh, was the brim of this evil top hat??" I wonder if he'll buy that.

"Oh, dude, that sucks. I hope you feel better."

He bought it. "It has improved since, uh, since the start of our imprisonment. Thank you for your uhh, solicitous concerns. I am sure that my throat shall be soon frog-free."

"Don't mention it, Star." Jeez, he's swallowing it all, hook, line and sinker. And the best defense being a good offense, I anticipate the next thing he will notice, and beat him to it. "I have also observed discrepancies with you as well, Beast Boy."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"You appear larger than I recall. Is there an incorrectness with my physique as well?" I am a clever minx.

"Wellll...," now comes the thoughtful pause, and then he says, "You do seem shorter, or smaller, or something. It's hard to tell in all this dark."

"Undoubtedly we are subject to an hallucination perpetrated by Mumbo Jumbo."

"Yeah." Then he gets all fidgety or something, I dunno, maybe it's because he had a genuine thought, but it's like his entire body went spastic. Probably due to the electrical activity of all seventeen neurons in his brain firing at once. One supposes that one would experience quite the trauma if one were not used to such an event. "Star! I have an _awesome _idea! You can generate one of your star bolts! It'll be green, but we can still see with it!"

Oh, like I didn't anticipate that one coming. "I am so sorry, Beast Boy," I fib (again), "but none of my powers appear to work. I have tried to fly, and to use my star bolts, but with no result. Perhaps it is more of the magical hallucinations of the Mumbo, and my powers do work, but I cannot tell."

"Ah, dude! That really chews. Is there anything we can do?"

"Mayhap I can try to throw a star bolt at you, and if you are engulfed in a corona of destruction then we shall know that this darkness is merely illusion!"

"Ah, no thanks, Star. I'm good."

"As you wish, friend." Ha! Can you believe that? What a sap. What a puddin' head. What a maroon. Just call him 'Ole Hollow Noggin. The boy's embarrassingly, conveniently gullible. Oh brave new world, that has such cuties in it.

But then Mr. Dense-as-Ellie-Mae-out-by-the-_cee-_ment-pond scares the bejeezus out of me by walking up - by walking right-up-close-and-personal kind of up - and grabbing hold of my hand. While my eyes expand about three times their volume in shock he gives a tug on the hand in question. "Hey, come on, Star. We can't just stand here all day," he says. "Pick a direction." I dutifully point over in any 'ole direction. Which doesn't work, 'cause he can't see it. So I point the hand which he's holding in the same said direction, he makes 'oh, yeah' sounds and off we gingerly shuffle.

"Star," he asks, "do you think Robin and Cy are alright up there?"

"You do not think that the Mumbo Jumbo has harmed them, do you?"

"Well, I suppose I don't," he answers, "but I didn't think I'd get stuck in this hat again, either."

Again?

"I hated being turned into inanimate objects."

As would I, I'm supposing. "Yes, friend Beast Boy, I was certainly, uhh, vexed to be so transformed."

" Uhh, sure, Star." Then he just stops offering conversational gambits. Maybe he ran out of questions. Maybe that little four cylinder brain of his is out of tune, and can't pull the combined weight of thought and physical coordination. Whatever, right? So we slowly (slowly_slowly_ SLOWLY) and silently mince our way along in the dark, free hands held out to protect our noses from colliding with the non-existent walls. It is _so _damned dark that we have to hold hands not to lose each other, so Beastie's grab hold of me is a lot of common sense, much as I hate to admit it. But it feels kind of weird anyway - holding his hand - glove - whatever.

All this quiet, and all this sheer boredom has got me to thinking: why didn't Beastie mention Raven back there? I figured that something would be going on between those two by now...

What?

Well, no accounting for taste, but his lame sense of humor is probably a real rib-tickler to the Witch Girl. And you know, it's the little runts who are always looking for a little 'sittin' in a tree' kind of action.

Huh? His lame-ass jokes _are _horrible. Honestly, you're not supporting your position of Objective Listener with those sort of comments. Now stop interrupting.

So anyway, I figured - being curious as a cat, and just as bored - that it's time someone found out who was buttering his bread, if you know what I mean. I start interrogating. "Beast Boy," I sweetly say, "I appreciate your kindnesses," and here we leave a pause to make me sound shy and coy, "and do not wish to sound, uhh," now it's gotta be as mangled a phrase as the space chick can spit out... uhh, then, "like I have a nose, but you did not mention concern for Raven earlier. Is there something of a new disagreement between the two of you?"

"Huh? Oh! Yeah, 'nosey'. Uh, no Star, we're 'just as usual' with our disagreements."

"And your lack of concern for Raven is not, uhh, indicative of harsh words exchanged?"

"Oh... We're fine, Star. I mean," and I get the feeling he's rubbing the back of his head here, "as fine as we ever were."

I'm making an blind stab in the dark here, but no pain, no gain, and really, this is the perfect location for stabs in the metaphorical dark: "Beast Boy, I shall be bold with words. I will not take any answer amiss, and hope you do not allow this, uhhhh... To presage a change in our current relationship..." I think I've just lost him with all my mealy-mouthery, because I certainly frickin' lost myself.

"uhhhhh..." Yeah, I lost him.

Okay, jumpin' off the cliff here. "Beast Boy, if everything were as you wished, would Raven be your girlfriend?"

"Dude!" He stops walking. I figure that out when his hand stops moving along with me. Then after the mother of all pauses - to collect what few thoughts he has - he says, "Uh, wait... My 'girlfriend'?"

"And you could wish to be her boyfriend?"

"'Girlfriend' and 'Boyfriend', eh?" He takes a while to answer, but I feel his gloved hand holding mine, fingers softly pressing and releasing. "Wellll, as long as you won't get angry with me..."

"I could never be so, friend."

I sense him turning toward me, then I feel an ungloved hand on my waist. I'd brain the s.o.b. right frickin' there if I wasn't pumping his tiny little brain for info, so I let it slide. For now. "You might be mad when you find out."

"That is foolishness to say."

"Okay." He stands there for a moment more, and after his hand departs from trespassing on me he speaks. "I don't really want Raven as a girlfriend because I don't ever want to be stuck the way Stone is with Jinx."

"What?" What in Sam Hill does that runt mean about that?! "What's wrong with Stone and Jinx?!"

"Well, ever since that Valentine's Day when Jinx found out about Sarah, Stone's had to be sly, and get it on the side, if you know what I mean."

_"What?!"_

"Well, it's not like he and Jinx are dating or anything, her being on the other side, not that he really loved her or anything anyway--"

_"What?!?"_

"Yeah, he's a great actor, a real player, it's just too bad he didn't get some before he broke cover--"

"...gaghkggackh!"

"Still, Robin wants him to keep Jinx Boulevard open, y'know? So he's had to keep his lifestyle on the down-low ever since. But at least he's doing Bumblebee--

_"BUMBLEBEE!!!"_

"Yeah, 'Bee, and Sarah, they're swinging ladies, and they understand a sophisticated man and his need to play the field. I don't think Raven understands men of the world like Stone and me."

_"Gack!!!"_

"Hey - maybe I can get me some of that Jinxy. What if I rat him out to the pink chick. Maybe I can get some on the rebound. I bet she'd put out, being all vulnerable and all from the bad, sad news I'd tell her, right?"

_"...GAGHKHGACKH!!!"_

"Oh, Dude! I'd really have to jump on her fast though, before Gizmo started to nail her, y'know? You think if I lie about it just right I can get Jinx all the way to home plate when I give her the news?"

_"AAAGHH! I __**HATE**__ BOYS!!!!"_

Even I am blinded by the pink, bad-luck-loaded explosion I fire at Beast Boy.


	3. Action & Danger, Ripped From the Headlin

I do not own the Teen Titans **  
**

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**Chapter 3**

**Action & Danger, Ripped From the Headlines!**

_Harley Quinn leans back against the wall, the wall behind the bench she's occupying in the holding cell. Her legs are demurely crossed, and a notepad is laid across her knee. She taps the end of a pen against her cheek. "Zo, vhen didt you start to hate yor vater?"_

_I roll my eyes. "That's the best you can do?"_

_"Huh? But my puddin' loves my headshrinker gag."_

_"'Gag' is right. You couldn't psychoanalyze yourself out of a paper bag."_

_She nods her head hyperkinetically at me, and the bells on the ends of her harlequin hat jingle fiercely. "That's just what my puddin' says!"_

_"Whatever." I sit up on the bench I'm lounged across. "And stop interrupting. When you have a story, you can tell it, now shut up and let me tell mine." Ummmm... "Where'd I stop?"_

_"Beast Boy had just played ya like a fiddle."_

_I send evil thoughts across the cell to her. "Cut the editorial comments." I square my shoulders against the wall, and continue._

Once the ringing in my ears from the _righteous _and_just _explosion fades, I hear a horrible moaning. Well, it's like a laughing, interspersed with horrible moaning. Kind of a 'ha ha ha ha owwww! Ha ha' kind of thing. And that doesn't help his case, let me tell you. "Show yourself, you poophead, so I can beat the _crap_out of you!"

"Ohh, ohhh, ha hah ho ha ha haa--"

"Dickweed!" I flip a hex in the general direction of his annoying chuckles, and am rewarded with a 'Yelp!!' That was a _much_more satisfying sound, but he starts laughing again. "What's so damned _funny_?!"

Out of the dark he answers. "Oh dude, your voice, your _voice_, you shoulda heard yourself. 'What?_ What? _ WHAT??!!'. Man, was that a _hoot!"_ Then he starts laughing again. The pooper poophead.

"Shaddup!" I fling several hexes out to where I think he is, though it looks like I'm wrong this time, because there are no satisfying yelps or owwies or anything else. He must have moved fast, because the pinky glow of my hexes doesn't reveal squat.

Instead, he has the nerve to start making accusations, backed up by the facts. Can you believe the nerve? "Serves you right! You started it!"

"Now don't try to change the subject, which is 'you', and your and Stone's nasty, dirty, lecherous, chauvinist pig little minds!"

"Yeah, 'Starfire', that's what this is allll about."

Oh, yeah, I did do that. "Can't blame me for trying."

"Yes I can. And you can't blame me for trying back at you. You tricked me, I fooled you. We're even steven."

Bastard. I'd almost say he was right, except I got the short end of the stick on that 'even' exchange. Still, since I can't find him and kill him right now, I'll just put on my 'being reasonable' face and see what else I can find out. "Okay, you're right, Beastie." I dramatically sigh. "So Stone isn't a 'playah'?"

"Nah. Made it up."

"All of it?"

"Yup."

"And you and Raven...?"

"None of your business, HIVE girl."

"Really?" Pause, two, three, four. "That says a lot right there, Beastie."

He doesn't answer. Then... he still doesn't answer. Probably pouting. Let's try a different tack. "So what gave me away?"

_Harley interrupts. Again. "Oh! Oh! I know! I know I know!" She throws her arm in the air and waves it frantically. "Pick me! I know!"_

_Ho boy... "Okay, Harley..."_

_"Ya dress like a proper lady. 'Cept for the scand'lously short skirt, I mean, really, do ya like flashing yer panties at everyone ya rob? It may be cute now, but trust me, I know - I've seen Cat Woman up close - what's cute and sexy when yer're sixteen is how-shall-we-del'cately-say-this 'slutty and worn' once ya reach the big three-oh--"_

_"You had a reason to interrupt, right?" I interrupt her right back; I'm adaptable._

_"Aaaaah, right, it's because Starfire's free spirited."_

_"??"_

_"Yer waist, sweetie! Beast Boy patted down yer belly. He got a free grope, and he also felt yer clothes, not Starfire's nekkid belly." She pauses for a moment, then, "Yer're just pretending ya didn't know that, right?"_

_"Of course." And that's my story, and I'm going to stick to it. _

So Beastie says, "I'm not telling you that. Geez dude, I'm not a moron."

"A girl can hope."

He guffaws back, and I expect suitable recognition from him of my verbal sparring skill, but there's just this pause, and after a little too long he growls. And he growls again. A really deep kind of thing, one of those rumblers that are all low-down bass, and hard to really figure out where they come from. It's really impressive, but I know his beastly tricks, so I plop one hand on my hip and flop the other one in his general direction. "Nice and scary there, Beastie. Now heel, or I'll whap your nose good with a newspaper."

Then a squeaky little voice sounds next to my shoulder. "I don't think he'll like that"

"Huh!?" And it sounds like, but it can't really be... "Beast Boy?"

"Umm, maybe we can call a truce?"

"But didn't you--" Then that growl happens again, and, sure as things that are sure, it isn't coming from around my left shoulder. "What's that?" I whisper.

"Don't you know?" he whispers back.

"I wouldn't have asked if I did, you little twerp." Honestly, the nerve of some people.

"Rein it in, lucky, you're the one working for Mumbo."

"Hold it right there, Sherlock," I snap right back, Loudly, and with Right on my side. "That's a lie, plain and simple. I was shanghaied just like you. I was walking down the street, minding my own business, and what did I get for being a peaceable, law-abiding citizen for once? I get knocked down, star bolted, shot at, and cycloned!"

"Well, I didn't know..."

"It's enough to drive one to... to a life of crime!"

I know I got him, because there's just the start of his answering laugh, when that growl happens again. Closer. A lot closer.

"Was that closer?" he asks.

What'd I tell you. "Yeah." I listen some more. I strain my eyes to pick up something - a darker dark, or a lighter dark, or a sense of motion or movement in the midnight blue around us, and get nothing. "Maybe..." Then I do sense something, something Not Good, and Beast Boy does too, because we both dive away from each other, immediately. Urgently.

THUMP A giant _something _whacks the floor where we stood, and the bad, bad monster-or-whatever knows it missed. It lets loose with a frustrated, shrill, bladder-emptying kind of shriek, one of those--

_Harley can't resist an opening, and she starts right up with a "Did ya say 'bladder'? Ya wanna hear about..." I send her a particularly evil eye. "Uhhh, not going there, I guess...,"_

I hear a "Jinx!" from not too far away, and I shout back, "Over here!" I get up and scramble toward where I think Beast Boy is, and we would have missed each other in the dark, too, if we hadn't knocked noggins together. "OWW!"

The Trying-To-Squish-Us Monster hears, too, and shouts out his own bellow. I feel Beasties' fingers quickly dance down my arm until they reach my hand, which they grab tight. "COME ON!" he shouts, and the wiry bastard practically tears my arm out of it's socket dragging me up while he starts running.

Where to? I haven't a clue, but I'm all in favor of the general idea when another too-close-for-comfort thump 'thumps' the spot we were just occupying seconds ago. "RUN!" he shouts. And in retrospect, it's kind of obvious advice, what with the roaring and shrieking and constant attempts to turn us both into moist, red, door mats. I don't quibble with his sentiment, either; I tighten my grip on him and start sprinting, too.

Not to bore you with the blow-by-blows, but we do a lot of dodging, and a lot of falling, and a lot of gettingthehelloutoftheway. But Beastie keeps his grip on me. "Oh dude," he huffs at me, "this Thing - just doesn't - let up."

I puff back at him. We've been running full bore for a little too long now. "The best defense - is a good - offense."

THUMP

"How do we - offense - what we can't - see?"

STUMP

He continues. "If Star - was here - we'd see - with her star bolts."

BLUMP

That set's me to some panicky thinking, which was not the best idea, because that itsy distraction causes me to almost stumble on a bad footfall, and only Beastie's grip keeps me from wiping out. Normally, I'd spend however long it took to subtly impress on him my complete contempt for his clumsy attempt to help me, which probably caused the problem to begin with, blah blah et cetera, but expediency won out, and I quickly distracted him with A Plan. "My hexes - glow. It'll be - enough."

"Okay - Then I - come out - swinging?"

STLUMP

"You - got it."

"Now?" Oooo, he's eager. Have to say that I do approve.

CRUMP!

"On - three - Beastie. One. Two. Three!" We stop dead and our hands release. I feel him running off somewhere. I sense the palpable bulk of the thing loom over me. I raise my arms together, summon all the bad luck I can muster, and swing my arms down as hard as I can, throwing all the ill will that I have.

The hex-bomb doesn't have to go far, and the bright bright from the explosion when it strikes illuminates a huge, beastly head, as wide across as I can stretch my arms. I see feral, hungry, hateful eyes, bloodshot and huge, surrounded by a coarse, mangy fur staring right at me, and a sloping snout falling down to a black maw, fronted by two, cracked and ragged teeth.

To tell you the truth, I freeze. Not for long, but long enough to keep it's attention... and have it lose concentration off to my right. In the quickly fading afterglow of my hex I catch the blurred shape of a dinosaur tackling the gruesome thing in front of me. I feel that an appropriately cheerleader-y shout out, along the lines of 'Go, Beastie!' or such, will work right now, when that dinosaur tail of his swings around, tracking straight at me. I just have time for an "Oops" to squeak out of me when it connects, hitting me into the outfield, a clear ground rule double.

I stop rolling when my head finds the only wall in this stupid place, but before I black out I see a gleaming light in the sable sky, and a hand hovering.


	4. The Desperate Escape

I do not own the Teen Titans.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**The Desperate Escape**

I wake up in the dark. Of course. It has to be dark. I move my neck slowly, and it's a little stiff, but it's not broken. I sit up, bump up against the wall, and use this new found support to prop myself up. "Stupid wall," I mutter. I bend my neck again, slowly, harder, and it cracks. "Ahhh." That's better.

I hear a sound, and I freeze. It's some sort of animal sound, a shuffling, then I hear a wheezing-sniffing-snorting kind of thing and, yeah, it's getting closer. Just what I needed. I take a deep breath and decide to haul myself up: meet death standing; back against the wall; these few, these lucky few; et cetera blah blahhty blah, you know the script.

The disgusting breathing sounds get closer. I get ready. I can't help but squint, and it doesn't help a thing.

The sounds stop.

I am _so _ready.

"Hi, Jinx!" goes the cheery voice at my shoulder.

"Ahh!" I _hate_ somebody getting the drop on me. "What the _frak?!"_ I hear giggling, until I elbow the giggler in his short little stomach.

"Ow!"

"Serves you right, you little runt!" I glower at Beastie, which he fortunately can't see, because if he could see he'd wilt and crumble at my feet into a pile of greasy ashes and stale jokes.

"Jinx, dude, do _not _be so harsh!"

I realize, suddenly and shockingly, that we're talking loudly and clear, and monster-whatever is still out there, asthmatically snorting it's way around. I'd say 'poop', but instead I use a ruder word, which incidentally starts with an 's'.

"Whoa! Does everyone in the HIVE have a potty mouth?"

"Shut up," I snap at him. Doesn't he remember that Thing is still out there? I concentrate on hearing where it is, while pointedly ignoring him.

He doesn't get the hint. "What're you doing?"

""Shut the shizzle _up_, you idiot!" I whisper angrily at him. "That thing is close by!"

"How'd'ja know?" he whispers back.

"I heard it."

"How?"

How?? "I heard it snuffling around, you dumbcluck."

"Oooh." But that's not enough for him to say, is it. No, it's not. "You think he picked up that scent of yours?"

"Yeah." Then I think about it... "Hey, what do you mean, 'that scent of mine'?"

"Well, it's really unique. There's an almost sorta sweet undertone, but not a sugary or heavy sort of--"

"How do you know that, that, that... Holy crap! You piece of poop,_ you're_ the snuffle monster!"

Beastie once again proves just what a jerk he is. "Dude, chill out, when I get a snort full, my nose knows what it knows. I _am_Beast Boy, y'know."

"SHUT UP!" Then I let him know what I really think. "Don't you ever _dare _smell my..._Aaagh! _Don't you ever smell _me _- any of me!"

Then does he shut his pie hole up, like someone in the wrong is supposed to do? No. Instead, he gets all righteous, like he's the one wronged. "Yeah? Well, how am I supposed to find you? It's abso-freakin'-lutely black in here, y'know, you remember that?!"

"Why do I need finding? I don't need some stuck-up little hero to make me feel all safe."

_"Why_find you? Yeah, yeah dude, you're _so_right. My tail whacks you into a spin off into who knows where, and you don't answer me when I call you, and it was a real solid hit, so maybe you're hurt, or unconscious, or bleeding, or or something, and I'm not supposed to look for you? I guess I should just do it like they do in the HIVE and leave you to bleed to death."

Which I should resent. Technically. Not that Gizmo wouldn't leave me to hang if it was expedient, and maybe Billy and Mammoth too, but probably not Kyd, or See-More. But that's crime, right? Some people got your back, and some don't. That's just how it goes. But I don't need to enlighten the pipsqueak about those Facts of Life. Just for fun, I could tear into him, get all riled and angry, but that's not the smart thing to do right now, or anytime you're at point of contact with The Forces of Justice. Bro Blood was always about playing smart, and keeping your cool when things got hot. 'Let the Titans get angry while you get even' he always said. Since I am the ultimate triple threat - smart, sexy, and sophisticated - I decide that delayed gratification is my best tactic. I'll wind Beastie up later, when I have the chance to see him while I properly crush him. "Okay, Beastie," I reply, doing my best chastised-but-still-mighty-cute voice, "You were trying to help."

"Yeah." After a too little blissful silence he spits out, "You got any ideas how to get out of here?"

"No." And really, if I did would I be hanging out around him? I ask you.

"Any idea what this wall is?"

"Huh?" Wow, a sensible question. I run my hand against said wall. "It feels like the, uhh, the floor. I suppose it's the side of the hat?"

"Yeah. Me, too."

'Yeah. Me too'?? That was all he said, so it ends up that's a bonus win for me! Which should have led to those hours of blissful silence I mentioned earlier, except something occurred to me, and the masochistic streak in me just had to blurt it out. I couldn't help myself! Hey, inquiring minds want to know, right? "Beastie! What happened to the Loud Monster Thingie?"

"Oh, that?" And he pauses, like he's deciding if I really need to know. But just when _I _decide to strangle him he speaks up. "Mumbo reached down and grabbed it."

"Really? Why'd he do that."

And a little too-suspiciously-quickly he replies, "Probably to sic it on the cowering populace upstairs."

He answered way too fast. What's he really thinking? It's gotta be about what Mumbo did. Now, Mumbo Jumbo is always 'on stage', if I remember that profile from Crazy Criminals 201 right. He never does anything or says anything unless there's a double entendre or punchline of some kind involv--

Then it hit me.

Maybe I'm just a double-threat, not a triple, because I obviously lost the 'smart' part of the 'sexy, sophisticated, and so forth' formula. I nudge the Beast, mostly nicely. "Hey, Beastie, did Mumbo talk to you right after you were captured?"

"Mumbo? Nah. First voice I heard down here was yours. Why?"

"He said something. It was... Something like I don't 'know the magic words to get out of here'."

"Well, that's just his usual... Heeey!" Sounds like Beastie does use his brain, too. "That's suspiciously clue-like. I mean, that's what Mumbo does."

"I know, Beastie. So," I cheerily propose, "know any good magic words?"

"Yeah. Scoobs. But wait, what about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you do magic and stuff?"

"Oh, that. I don't use any words or spells or anything. You hang out with that Raven-bi--, with Raven too much. I don't say that 'Azagrass, Mertron' stuff. It's all just my natural ability and talent."

"Ah. Your 'natural ability and talent'."

"Yep."

"Your 'bad luck' is all you can do, then? I always wondered."

"I was born to it. As natural as breathing."

"You rob and steal and hurt people because that's the only way to use your power?"

That was not a nice way to say that, and my reply gets a mite snippy. "I didn't say that, Beastie."

"Oh, okay, so you're saying you didn't choose to be evil, but you're evil because that's just the way you are."

"Umm..."

"Well, that's all just bullshit" -- if you were there and had a flashlight you could have seen my jaw bounce off the floor --"because I've seen evil at someone's core, _true _evil, and how they constantly fight it, and how they made themselves _become_good, because it was the _right_thing to do. And they're probably the most truly good person I know, because it's what they _want_to be." When did this conversation turn all thoughtful and uncomfortable? And when did he learn to run rings around me with his logic? "I know _real_evil, Jinx, and you are _not_real evil."

Oh. I'm ready to chew him up, and chew him out, but what do I say to that now? Tell him 'I am evil incarnate!' and list the reasons? That's not what evil people do, you know. Ignore him? Yeah, like that's possible. He'll just take that to mean he's right. The only thing to do is go with the play book and attack! "And you're all goody-goody inside, then, right Mr. Hero?"

There's a short pause, and far more seriously than it deserves he answers. "No one is, Jinx."

Good, looks like I'm back to making him react to me in this conversation, so let's steer it where we need to go. "So, how many naughty thoughts you have about me today?"

"Dude?!" That got his attention.

"I'm just saying, Beastie. I mean, you _did _hold my hand an awful long time today. I just want to know how many times you undressed me in your head."

He barely squeaks out another, "Dude..."

"Now, you think up some magic words, and maybe we'll see what I'll let _you_see when we get out of here. Know what I mean, Beastie?" He replies with a high pitched, strangled sort of squeak, which I take for a 'yes'. Jeez, boys can be so easy to embarrass. Well, the nice ones are, and the ones that aren't - uhh, I wouldn't want to be in the same room with them anyway, let alone have them actually _touch _me. Blah! Anyway, let's get back on topic. "Come on, Beastie. Cat got your tongue?"

He doesn't say anything. But then he grabs my hand! Yes, I _am_shmexy as hell, and my flirty little taunting kinda encouraged just this sort of pushy behavior, but that's beside the point! I didn't _say _he could, and I'm pretty possessive about me. But then he pipes up by way of explanation, which also lets me know, unfortunately, that he isn't putty in my hands - just yet. "In case this works and only I get, uhh, pulled out of here. This way you'll get, well,_whatevered_ with me, too."

And, I gotta give him props, that _is _a pretty nice thing to do. I got to admit it never occurred to me. Almost makes one feel bad about toying with him.

'Almost'. Right?

"Okay, Beastie," I say, "make with the magic."

There's a brief pause before he starts going down the list:

"Abracadabra!

"Alakazam!

"Shazam!

"Mumbo Jumbo!

"Rikki Tikki Tavi!..."

_"I think he's right," interrupts Harley._

_"Huh? I mean, about what?"_

_"The 'Evil' thing. Ya just don't have that twinkle in yer eye, y'know? That bomb in yer back pocket thing."_

_I narrow my eyes at her. She thinks I'm not evil, eh? Well, I'll show her. I say one word to her, just one little word. In fact, I snear it out: "Sidekick." _

_Her jaw plops open wide, she crosses her arms and puts on her angry face. "MY PUDDIN' says I am his Junior Partner, not a, a... ohhh! I refuse to even say it! Wait'll I tell Mister J!" Then she sniffs her nose at me and looks away._

_"Be careful which pot is calling the kettle black, sweetie," I snap back at her. "That frying pan to the face sure can hurt."_

_She decides I'm worth looking at just enough to stick her tongue out at me. "Finish yer stupid story."_

"Open sesame!"

And you know what? It would have to be 'open sesame', wouldn't it? The moment he says it it feels like the cyclone thingie all over again, only this time it's a wild card, swinging from him to me and back again. I'm getting battered and buffeted, and pushed away, which is definitely not cool! "Jinx?!" he shouts, then I feel my fingers start to slip from his hand.

"Hold on, Beastie! I got you!" I yell back, and I'm quick about it, but I'm not the kind who's afraid of snap decisions. My hand clamps hard around his, but the wind is wrapped over me and pulling me away. I feel my feet leave the floor, and the cyclone tosses and twists me up and around and back again. I feel his hand slipping, but I can't even shout it out to him - the wind is a solid wall around me, and it's hard to even wrestle enough breath from the air.

I'm not just uncomfortable, I hurt like the dickens. Objectively, I'm mighty impressed. Battering someone with wind is a neat trick, but I'm not doing much with admiring right now. My elbow and shoulder have been twisted and bent in the wrong directions a dozen times over, and it just frackin' _hurts_ now. I'm ready to just let go, I have to admit. See, I figure that the 'open, sez me' trick will probably work for me too, but Beastie confirms he is not a mind reader by gripping on harder instead of letting go. Then he performs his patented morph trick. I feel his hand _change,_ and it is really weird and really, _really _creepy to feel that happening when you're hanging on for dear life. But me being creeped out doesn't stop the Beastie from living up to his name and getting all octopussy on me - his hand turns into a tentacle and wraps around my wrist, then I feel another clammy tentacle slink further up my arm and wrap up around it, then another slides up to my shoulder and down my back to slither around my waist. Ewwww... I feel his tentacles tensing and stretching and practically creaking while they hang onto me against the power of Mumbo's twister, and then, with a straining pull I am dragged into the center of the cyclone and wrapped round and round with all eight of his - _blech!_- tentacles.

We spin and roll and twist, and I know what Dorothy felt like twirling over Oz now, and lemme tell you, it is not pleasant. I am ready to lose my lunch, every lovin' bit of it, as the turns and spins become kidney-bustingly violent, then suddenly--

_"OWWW!!"_

I land on my pert little butt, and boy, does that _still_smart!


	5. A Thrilling Conclusion

I do not own the Teen Titans.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**A Thrilling Conclusion**

I'm sprawled out on the lumpy ground, back resting uncomfortably on the hard, bumpy dirt and my arms and legs splayed wide. I crack open my eyes, and immediately shut them tight again, because it's all sunlighty and cheery around me, and it's just a bit too much to adjust to after all that time in the deep dark. And now that I think about it, my arms hurt and my legs ache and my head. And my neck. I sit myself up - still keeping my sensitive peepers shut - and wiggle my neck, slowly, and it's really stiff, but it's not broken. I wriggle uncomfortably on the bumpy ground, and I just don't find a more comfortable spot. I prop myself up on my arms and mutter bad words. "Stupid ground." I bend my neck again, slowly, harder, and please, please, please please please... It cracks. "Ahhhhh." Oh yeah. And that seems to help with the growing slow-motion headache explosion I was working on, too.

I try opening my eyes again, and it's definitely easier. I look around, and let me tell you, it's one heck of a 'whistle' moment. Wherever I landed, it's a mess. Broken car windows, shattered shop windows, office windows empty, I got to tell you, something moved through here which didn't like windows at all. It's amazing I didn't land on a pile of glass shards. Then I decide I'd better double check that. I proceed with The Visual Inspection. Fingers, ten - all present and accounted for: check. Arms, two - no nasty gushing arterial wounds: check. Back of head - no matted, blood-caked hair: check. Back of, uh, back - not skewered in midst of: check. Legs, four - free of open wounds and sharp objects: check.

Hey, wait a sec.

I look down and start counting the legs sticking out from my skirt, being very careful this time to account for each one. "One - two - three - four." It doesn't take long for that number to sink in. "_Holy Catz!"_ I jump right up.

A cough and a groan immediately follows from behind me, and I spin in place, crouched and ready for combat. "Dude," croaks a voice, "for a little girl you weigh an awful lot."

I loosen it up; it's Beast Boy. "It's called 'petite', not 'little', buster," I lecture him. He looks miserable, all splayed out on the ground. He must have been beneath me when we landed, and yes, my butt twinges with an empathetic ouchie with that thought, and yeah, he must be hurtin'. Oh dude! To coin a phrase. I quickly kneel down and look him over, and it's okay. No slowly expanding puddles of blood beneath him. And no, I'm not getting all soft and nicey with the hero. I want to make sure he isn't about to croak, because I wouldn't put it past that Robin to try to frame me for it.

So, anyway, I'm leaning over him, and with a smirky, cute, irresistible smirk I ask, "Aren't you going to ask the petite girl to help you up?" He just gives me a nasty look, the ingrate, and waves me away. I wave back and stand up, and look around.

Cars and buses are stopped helter-skelter all over the street. Here and there - and not very close, no matter where you look - civilians are peeking at me from behind doors and cars. Down the boulevard I hear booms and bangs and whooshes. That must be the Titans battling whoever doesn't like windows. Well, it could have been the Titans who made the mess, after all, Stone's sonic boom gun is mighty boomy. And in poetical counterpoint, I see a solid, blue beam rise up to the sky from the direction of the battling sounds, followed soon after by that familiar rumble. "Yep," I think, "You go, Stone."

I feel Beastie standing up beside me before he says a thing. "Look, uh, Jinx, uhh, thanks. I mean, back in the hat, not for crushing me when we hit the ground and all."

I answer without missing a beat. "Don't go there, Beastie, I've been lied to by the best."

He pauses for only a moment, then he replies with a sharp, annoyed edge in his voice. "Does it hurt you so much if I try and treat you like a human being?"

I turn to sneer at him, and he's glaring right back at me. I narrow my eyes and wipe any humor out of my delivery. But he's not backing down from this. And he looks completely pissed off. In fact, this annoying pest, this miniature Justice-League-wannabe runt looks sincere. Which is b.s.. I know it's b.s.. All heroes are liars. But then the little piece of crud interrupts my thoughts with another bout of sincerity. "Dammit, Jinx, we were both prisoners. We worked together to escape. Can't we stand each other long enough to walk away _before _we start fighting?"

"What? Don't feed me a line, Beastie, you Titans do nothing but attack us."

"Don't you try and feed me a line back! We fight you when you're _breaking the law._ Break the law yet, today, Jinx?"

I'm ready to answer 'no', but then the price tag still attached to that shoplifted, flimsy bit of immodesty and wishes that Vicky's Secret claims is a 'bra' starts digging into my shoulder blade, and _that_reminds me of just why I stole it, and how pointlessly impulsive that was. It's not like I _really_want any boys in the Five getting up close and personal with it, even See-More. I mean, I am nauseatingly familiar with every one of their habits, their lazy, slacker ideas about what it means to be out on our own, and their crude, slimey attempts to get me undressed - when they're not treating me like just one of the guys, belches and farts and leering comments about Orleans Marriot and all the other celebutantes. Ugh.

But I'm not here to bitch and moan about the jerks I live with. I put on my sweet face, just for Beast. "Nope. I _do_have a life, you know."

"Okay, then," he answers, then I miss the rest because an outrageously loud _BOOOM!!_ booms nearby, and an abandoned car wobbles like it was broadsided, and that spindly bastard Mumbo sprints into view. And yes, he is cackling.

He turns around to face the Titans - or whoever - as he raises his wand to smite them with a mighty smiting, when he's thrown back into the side of a bus, pigeons and rabbits and cards spitting out of his sleeves. I sure missed what hit him, but it did a doozie of a job, because a bunny and a flower land right in my hands from right across the avenue! I am mildly flabbergasted, I can tell you. I didn't see them looping through the air towards me, for one; they just sort of suddenly appeared in my hands. The cutesy little rabbit doesn't have a mussed fur on it's back, and there's not a singed or even a single crushed petal on the bright red rose. It's weird, or a miracle, or probably both. I hold 'ole Floppsie Moppsie up to my face and wrinkle my nose at him. "It's okay, wittle bunny-bunns, you're safe with--" _Cheese on a sandwich! _ I drop the flower, tout de suite, while my right hand quickly rises to join my left around the rabbit.

That fur.

That twitchy nose.

That jagged bunny tooth.

Those bloodshot, malicious eyes.

I've seen this face before, and wittle bunny-bunns has seen mine, too. A flash of recognition surges like an electrical shock through his rabbity body, and he squirms and scratches and twists his way in my hands. I hold tight, and tighter, and finally tightest, until he gets the message and stops fighting it. I smile evilly, and make a maniacal chuckle, all 'crazy villain' like. And just for evil counterpoint I then make my cutesy nose wrinkle again. "That's right, 'Thumper'," I softly tell him, "save your strength. You are going to become my very - _best _- friend." I am going to make this mangy rodent _pay_for trying to stomp me into the floor!

Little Bunny O'Painstick stares back at me, acting exactly like a rabbit scared to death. One can only hope, right? So, I plot and consider, and before you can say 'in your Easter bonnet' I have the weekend all planned out. When, wouldn't you know it, '_merde_happens'. Pardon my French. There I was, planning several just desserts for The Doomed Bunny when a gloved hand lands on my shoulder. I practically jump out of my skin, but I control it - I am a professional, after all. "Hey, Jinx!" peeps the Beast Runt, "It's cool."

Huh? "Huh?" Then I look around. Robin's right in front of me, giving me the eye. Or 'the mask', I suppose, what with that unnatural 'no eyes' thing going on with that self-same mask. I plaster a grin on my face, and raise my hand to wiggly-waggle a wave with my fingers. "What's knittin', kitten?"

"Uh, right," he says. I keep my happy-wide grin on while scoping out the changed-unbeknownst-to-me scene. I catch Raven in my peripherals with a slump-shouldered Mumbo in tow, and right beyond her is Stone, surveying the damage, and probably recording the insurance report. Robin, thick as a brick, keeps on with the obvious conversational gambits. "So, you and Beast Boy worked _together_to escape Mumbo?"

"I cannot tell a lie," I reply. "You could have knocked me down with a feather, too, if it'd been youtelling _me _that one." And, hey, that's true, right?

"Uhh, okay." He does one of those thoughtful chin-in-hand poses, then shrugs his shoulders. "Well, then, thanks, I suppose. I'm glad for once that we don't have to fight each other. Yes," then a smile breaks out and he gets with a boy-scout-intense sort of vibe, "thanks for doing the right thing."

Hey, I think there's an insult hiding in there somewhere, but being the generous gal that I am I act as if he meant to be nice. I shrug a shoulder, tip my head to the side, and respond just as graciously. "No big, Wonder Boy." And since I didn't really plan to spend the day making nice with the Titans I get right to the point. "So, I'm not in custody? Not planning some little trick to go with the treat?"

"What? Of course not. We're not the HIVE."

"You say so, Robbie." I look over at Stone, still in his dutiful cyborg-y survey mode. A sassy bye-bye would just be wasted on him right now. "Toodles, Bird Boy." And I head out of there.

I try to head out of there.

Beast Bother plops his body right in my way. "Hey, Jinx, I got a question."

I try an end run around him, waving 'shoo' with my hand as I scoot on by. "I'm busy, short stuff. Got places to meet; things to see; people to do."

"Look, Jinx," he stubbornly replies, and I'm ready to just elbow him in the face and continue on my way, and then the little stink grabs my sleeve.

I should crush him with seven years of the worst frakin' luck _ever_. But. He's looking at me with these ludicrously wide doe eyes. I can't help myself. And don't you give me that look, you'd have done the same. I ask, "W. T. F., now, Beastie?"

"Look, Jinx, I just wanted to say thanks."

"You already did." I mean, really, is there something about Justice that makes one endlessly repeat the obvious? "Bye bye."

"No! Wait!" And he plops his other hand around my arm, too.

This is getting Annoying. I answer with a you're-skating-on-thin-ice tone. "You'd better have a really good excuse for this."

"Uhh, I only need like a minute, dude." I glare at him, but nod. I'm apparently a pushover today. And he apparently takes that for a license to babble. "When we were in Mumbo's hat you never really _really _tried to y'know attack me but there was that thing after you found out I tricked you about Cyborg but you were already pretending to be Star so that doesn't count anyway so when we were in the hat and all you coulda got the drop on me but you didn't so I was wonderin' now don't take this personal and all but I was wonderin' what with your history of going through Raven's closet and breaking buildings on top of me and resisting arrest and being like a star pupil in the HIVE and stuff so all I was wonderin' was: why?"

The sweet, sweet quiet catches me by surprise, so I shake my head to rattle the glazed look off of my face. "Ummmm... 'why' what?"

He looks puzzled, though for the life of me I thought I said used actual words. "Dude, you had the drop on me, so why didn't you?"

"Oh, that." I squirm my arm from out of his paws while I explain. "Well, why? You weren't in my way, and I wasn't in yours. What's the percentage in just picking a fight?"

"But, you're in the HIVE. Brother Blood--"

"Brother Blood has an agenda, and it isn't mine." Looks like I have to say the obvious. "And I'm not in the HIVE. Remember, Beast Brains, you guys blew it up. Twice."

"Oh. That's right." Then he gets that whole-body shiver thing goin' on again, just like back in the magic hat. Guess he's had another thought. "Whoa! Jinx!" And the little bugger gets an ear to ear grin. "You don't have to be a bad guy!"

What's with heroes not knowing when they sling insults? I roll my eyes with great sincerity and decide any more words from me will just encourage more idiocy to flow from his mouth. I look past his pointy ear and see Raven-witch shoving her arm up to the shoulder joint down into Mumbo's old hat, and after a cheek-in-jowl moment pulling Starfire's head up out of it. I think I'll not go that way. So I turn around, intent on splitting this scene while the Beastie yammers on and on about doing the right thing, and seeing the light, and be there for me when I make the right step, yadda yadda, when I step right into the chest of one of Jump City's Finest.

"You're under arrest," says the cop. And he sounds like he enjoys announcing that fact, the poop.

I look up at his masked face, and it's been one thing after another today, and I give him a very pissed off, 'don't mess with me, it's been one of those days' looks. "Check with your handlers, there, Bonzo, I got me a Get Out Of Jail Free card from Robin."

He shakes his head and clamps onto my wing bone. Quite the conversationalist, he. I start to work up a malicious, petty hex to shove down his throat when I am reminded who the heck is at my elbow: Beastie pipes up. "What's up, officer?"

"A shoplifting complaint was sworn out on Ms. Jinx earlier today."

"Oh."

That's it? He just says 'Oh'? I consider (very briefly) lashing out wildly with a preemptive strike at Beast and the cop, and if that was all who were here I'd be in the clear. But I'm knee deep in Titans, and have had my fair share of bruises, ouches, and wounds hurting like heck while I was hanging around in detention waiting to be booked, and I just don't feel like feelin' it today, you know? I still decide I can have some fun at their expense, so I get to work and immediately turn on the Beast. "What gives, huh? Robin said I could go, so then you guys trump up some charges on me? What kind of a pile of poop are you trying to shovel, huh!?" He looks a trifle confused, and then he gets this 'I'm a genius!' look in his eye, and he rubs his cheek, all thoughtfulish, of all things.

That can't be good.

He looks me in the eyes, and, I dunno, I get a feeling he's _disappointed_or something in me, can you believe the nerve? And he wants me to, I don't know, act chagrined or contrite or deserving-of-doing-disappointing. I dunno. He leans around and eyes my back, then squints a little bit, and then his squinty eyes scan mine. I purse my lips tight and squint right back at him. But I get a feeling, you know the one. His eyes roll back over my shoulder. "You've got a thing here," he says, and there's that all-disappointed voice again. "I'll get it for you," then he reaches up to my shoulder, while I try to squirm, and protest, "It's okay, Beast, I'm good." Yes, I know, why am I trying to stop him? The first pat-down at the Detention Center will find it. It just seems like the thing to do, okay? Make him work for it. Anyway, I try to shove him away with the arm not in the vicelike grip of the cop. "I don't remember giving you permission to touch there," I say Very Strongly, and when that doesn't work I open up a Can of Girly-Girl and squeal and bat at him, squeaking loud and clear, pushing myself against him to confuse the issue and yelling "Stop that, Beastie! Hands off!" Incidentally, this is starting to be fun. When I feel his fingers slip behind my neckline I twist and grab hold of his waist and try to fall on top of him, but he fights it, and the cop fights it, the crud, and Beastie keeps squirming fingers down my back, and still he determined, he will not frickin' back

down, he's _still _trying to get at the tags, so I suppress the rising smirk from my face and get all Cold War on his butt. I crank up the volume to go nuclear and Drop The Bomb --

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY BOOBIES, YOU CREEP!"

You cannot believe silence can be so deafening until you get the attention of Everyone within a quarter mile. Beastie's standing right beside me, heck he's mostly shoved up against me, holding up the sales tags he ripped from the bra strap. His mouth is slowly falling open as the pink shines brighter bright through his emerald cheeks. He's realizing just what I screamed, and it's _all_about him. The embarrassment shows loud and clear, and I really have to work to keep my face all serious. Go, me! Scored a bullseye! I straighten up, holding my free arm protectively across my chest, eyes wide and pitiful, the perfect picture of The Violated Maiden. I scan the completely appalled bystanders, and find Robin over with the other three Titans "You son of a _bitch!" _I point my hand at Robbie and cut loose. "I put my life on the line helping your pipsqueak teammate out of a jam, and for thanks you and he plant evidence on me?! And you tell him to get a free _grope_out of the deal?! You jerk! You freak! _You sham!"_

It feels great to throw that victim crap back into the Titan's faces. Watching Robin squirm might even be worth what's coming next. I check out the reactions of the rest of the Titans. I see that Raven has her usual 'pole up her butt' expression, but what'd you expect, right? Starchick looks just like a five year old who's been told Barney isn't for real. Maybe someone will eventually enlighten her to the nature of my fib. Jeez, Stone isn't real happy about the negative vibrations I laid down on Robbie, either. And I was ready for that reaction, really. Stone and I, we weren't anything anyway, so, what does it matter?

And with that downer of a thought I get ready. I hate this moment in the process most of all: the cop reaches over to grab my free arm and swing it behind my back, where he cuffs me. Beastie's just standing there, giving me one of those pitiful kind of once overs. "What?" I snap at him.

"Shoplifting, Jinx?"

"Oh no you don't!" I make snippy at him, "you're all about 'doing the right thing, and seeing the light, and being there for me when I make the right step, yadda yadda', but you jump at the first chance to try to get me to incriminate myself. Typical, lying, hero b.s.."

He crosses his arms, then uncrosses them and scratches the back of his head. He starts to reply, then he stops, and starts again. "Okay, don't answer that then, but jeez, Jinx, shoplifting? It's so, so_lame."_

"Lame?" I hiss it back at him. "You think a girl doesn't get holes in her undies?"

"Yeah, I know but... y'know? You're a _villainous."_

Cripes Almighty, they should call it the 'Ivory Tower', not the Teen Tower. "Really, genius?"

"You could--"

I cut him off. "Pay with what? You heroes crashed the last two cash-acquisition parties we had. Get a job, then? Even if I became a Total Loser and tried to get one, tell me, oh all-seeing, all-knowing Hero, who would actually take a chance and hire a 'Jinx', huh?" He doesn't have an answer for that one, and he never will. He just looks at me with a slow-witted, empty stare.

Idiot.

The cop must be satisfied that I am secured, and be just as sick of this stupid argument as I am, because he positively steers me around and away from Beastie without a word of warning, walking me toward the wagon. And I guess that makes him smarter than I thought. Beastie shows why he isn't smarter - he follows alongside, telling me all the reasons I shouldn't be me. I ignore the Beast - I try long and hard to ignore Beastie McPainInTheButt - and his so _so_sincere babbling. I am guided up the steps into the wagon and secured to within an inch of my life in superhuman-proof (more or less) full body restraints. And he's still going on and on.

I shake my head before the cop closes the door. "Listen, Beast Bitch, I'm Bad Luck. You can't change that. I can't change that. So, just give me a break and keep the lectures to yourself."


	6. The End – Or Is It

I do not own the Teen Titans.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**The End – Or Is It**

Harley scratches her chin. "Hey! You got a visitor!"

I turn to look. The wall on the hallway side of the holding cell is some sort of everything-proof glass/plastic stuff, and I see a clearly lit, empty hall on the other side. I look back at her. "Must've been going to another cell, Harl."

She looks at me, then her eyes jump past my shoulder. "No, really, ya got a visitor."

I follow her eyes back to the hallway wall and still see absolute nada. "Umm, that happy juice they shoot you up with at Arkham: it have any side effects?"

Her eyes bug big and angry at me, and she gets all exasperated. "Look! Really!"

I humor the crazier-than-I-knew lady and turn again. Just as the guard is unlocking the transparent door to let in a harassed-looking woman in a suit. "Oh, her," I answer. "That's just the public defender." Harley starts to say something that sounds like 'That's not who I meant' but I have to make with the witty repartee to my visitor. "Wow, I'm pretty sure it's been over three months since I've seen you, Miss Zbigwerinbozinski-Jones. I can't be _that _big a bummer."

She drags some errant hairs back behind her ear. "It's okay, Nicole, it isn't you," and then she lets out a little smile, "this time." Harley waves her arms to get my attention, pointing again, amazingly, back to the hall, but I shush her with my own little wave back. Miss Z continues. "I'm here to give you good news, actually. The charges have been dismissed."

I rattle my head back and forth, just a little bit, and blink two - three - four times. "Ummm... Excuse me?"

"The charges were dismissed."

"Uhhh--"

"Beast Boy didn't show, and against evidence handling procedures he didn't hand over any evidence he had to the department. As it is, the surveillance system at the store broke mysteriously about the time you entered it," and let me add she kept a perfectly straight face saying that, "and no one actually saw you take the contested items into the dressing room."

"Well," I say. "Well." Then I put a little frowny on my face. "Why didn't Beastie show?"

Miss Z shrugs. "I heard that all the Titans are out of town on some kind of mission."

That's funny. Ole obsessive-compulsive Wonder Boy doesn't usually leave loose ends hanging around like that, even when they scoot out on High Adventure. I know, from unfortunate personal experience. Still, here's a gift horse with a mouth on her, so let's not get all pushy about looking in it. "So when can I check out of this hotel?"

"I'd give it about fifteen minutes. They have to paperwork you out of here." Then it looks like she had said what she had to say, and up she gets. "I have another case I have to see. Mind if I let myself out?" She's already heading for the door, and the guard is already unlocking it.

"Apparently not," I answer.

"Goood," she answers back. "And keep your nose clean, Nicole, okay? I'd like to not see you for a long time."

"Sure. No problem. I'll get right on that. Put it in my day planner."

Then she's out of here, and I get to start getting impatient.

And annoyed - Harley pipes up. "Wow, they dropped the charges."

"Yep."

"Ya know what this means, don't ya?"

"Nope."

She looks up at the ceiling, like she's never been so appalled in her life, then back at me. "Ya gotta get yourself a real _man!"  
_

Ummm... That kinda showed up out of the blue, and maybe I didn't hear her right. "Hubanuma?" Let's try that again, in English this time. "What the hell?!"

She gets to work explaining. I hope. "Mistah J showed me how important it is ta have a man at yer side, to help ya break inta that jewelry store or spray that poison gas or share yer triple dip ice cream extravaganza delight. And girlie, yer're in grave danger of losin' all that!" I still have no clue where this runaway train came from or where it's going. She raises her hands in the air, then slaps them down on her knees and yet again points over to the hallway door and wall. "Lookie!"

I turn to look at an empty hall. I flick my eyes back her way and raise my eyebrows. "Yes?"

"Ah, don't ya see?! Yer boys ain't doin' it for ya, so the Titans are trying to turn ya away from an exciting and lucrative career in supercrime by getting ya all sweet and stupid with a hero!"

"Okay, Harley," I carefully tread, "that's Crazy Talk! I mean, literally. It's crazy." Did I say 'carefully'? That's not exactly what I meant, apparently.

"Yeah? Well, yer're neck deep in boys, and lookin' at Mammoth, yer're neck deep in _Men. _ Yer sleepin' with a man-harem, right there twenty four/seven. But what do you go yammerin' on and on and on about? Stone this, and Beast Boy that. Ya get yerself some sexy underwear, and ya flirt with Beast Boy about it! Beast Boy! I mean, yer not satisfied with _five_criminal boys? Ya play that game with a hero and before ya know it yer making speeches to school kids about not smoking!"

Oh, great... 'word' has gotten to Gotham. "'Sleeping with my man-harem'? Don't tell me, you didn't think those stories were true, did you?"

"Well, yeah, what with what everyone knows about ya and the boys--"

"What everyone knows about me and 'the boys' is all b.s., and if you hear a new story tomorrow, that's not true either."

"But--"

"They are Pure Bull Crap. Capiche?"

"What? But...!" I hold up my hand. "But...!" I shake my head. "Welll... since ya say all those juicy stories about ya and yer five boys are fake, then maybe there's hope." She crosses her legs and flips a page of her notebook, then poises her pen over it. "Ya gotta shack up with one of those boys, maybe that Gizmo kid or Mammoth, or a nice, evil older guy, like Dr. Light, or even Psimon. Who do ya like better?"

_"Are you out of your mind?!"_

"That's not the reaction we're lookin' for here." She starts waving her pen at me to punctuate her points. "Let's face the facts, sistah. Ya need someone ta help ya over this rough spot treatin' heroes like human bein's. They ain't human bein's. They's the enemy. You see one, ya crush 'em. Or kill 'em. Or crush 'em and kill'em. Ya want ta have someone like Mistah J at yer side, always there fer ya, always doin' sweet things, showin' he loves ya by killing off most everyone in a major metropolis."

"You're cracked, Harley."

"I'm talkin' about love, sistah! Show me an evil mastermind in love, and I'll show you someone nothing can stop!"

"I – don't – want – love. _Especially_ with any of the creeps in your list."

"It's worst than I thought!" She lays the back of her hand against her forehead and dramatically leans back. "It's like that Cat Woman and Bats! Cats Woman is always being a free agent, always flirtin' with Bats, and she's always findin' excuses. You'll end up no better than her! And my puddin' says Cats will never be nothin' but a two-bit thief in a stupid costume ."

"I am _not _a two-bit thief! But I'm not a nut job either, like someone else in this room!"

She gives me an angry, deadly glare, crosses her arms, and once again stares at that damned see-through wall. I keep to the high road and refuse to fall for her obviously delusional distraction. "Yeah, well, when some red-haired, six-packed piece of boy-candy comes lookin' for ya, don't say I didn't warn ya!"

I roll my eyes, because it doesn't deserve any more reply than that. But then I hear the door unlocking, and I whip my head around to see... the guard. He sticks his head in. "Okay, Jinx, you're free to go."

"About frickin' time." I get up and head out.

Harley's got to have the last word. "Remember what I said, Jinxie!"

But I won't let her. I turn around at the door. "You're going to eat those words, Harl. I'll be in the Brotherhood of Evil, and you'll still be in therapy finger-painting in Arkham." And I let the door shut tight. I can almost hear her frustrated scream.

I hit the street just a couple of moments later, just minding my own business, sashaying down the sidewalk - not a care in the world. But then I think: 'No better than Cat Woman'?

Hey, give me a break, right?

* * *

Thanks for reading. You can blame it all on Shmizzim, who forced me to get this done without saying a thing. Check out her story "Challenge" Ch04 for her take on the challenge word of the month! 


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